


I deduce you're sick

by pyropinkfish



Category: House MD, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Almost Kissing, F/M, FUCKING LOVE IT, Gen, I tried rly hard to make my medical stuff accurate, M/M, Multi, Sick Fic, and comas, and worms, au which sherlock and house meet, like I worked my ass off with research, theres gay hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyropinkfish/pseuds/pyropinkfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"erii-2ol-2priite imagine au where sherlock gets sick and no one can figure it out so he goes to house and the entire episode is them finally coming to a grudging mutual respect" tumblr </p><p>I wrote my own request, sweats loudly. </p><p>Credit for my beta: Cynthia</p><p>Credit for online resources for the medical knowledge they provided in making the diagnosis and treatments semi-actuate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

Prologue

"Sherlock."

The flat was fairly quiet on 221B Baker Street, yet the smallest exhale of John's breathing, Mrs. Hudson’s humming from the other room, and the shuffle of papers from the file John held... loud.

Booming. 

Sherlock 

The lights. 

Sherlock

Bright. Too bright. Too damn bright.

Sherlock curled on his chair, a newspaper covering his face. Practically acting like a shield. 

"Sherlock!" John questioned in a louder voice, arching an eyebrow as he glanced at the taller male grabbing his forehead. Who must be ignoring him. He had been calling his name a good twenty times.

"Your voice is grating." He replied in a near whisper. Headaches were one thing. This was a migraine; it hurt, more murderous than the case they were working on. Hell, how could he concentrate on anything when his vision was so blurry? 

"Maybe you should go to a doctor about that headache." Useless. What could doctors do? Why does he have to talk so much? Couldn't John take a hint? 

"Sherlock?" He didn't answer, instead he stood up and walked over to the table, grabbing the bottle of pills with no label that were pretty questionable. The brunette shifted, opening the bottle to self-medicate himself with the medicine he had been taking ever since the damn headache began. 

The pills never made it to his lips. 

For a second, John and Sherlock locked gazes. 

That second was long. 

That second told John everything. 

He jerked out of his own chair, rushing to Sherlock as the genius' head fell to the side, his body suddenly violently shaking, eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

Sherlock fell to the floor, his hand slipping on the corner of the table as the tremors shook his body. John was there instantly, pushing him to lay on his side, screaming for Mrs. Hudson to get the phone, “Call 999! Hurry!”

John patted his friend's hair back, trying to keep him from hurting himself with the medical training he had when something caught his eye. 

His palm, it was split open. 

Gray eyes stared in confusion at the green.... that can't possibly be blood... oozing from the open cut.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids eat weird things, ever noticed that?

Chapter one

The day was beautiful, sun was shining, weather nice after a day of hard rain, he made it to the next level of his game, conquering those aliens, the little kid and his annoying mom were quiet — oh and a pissed off Cuddy was glaring down at him.

House glanced over from where he laid on the exam table and smiled up at the woman, placing his gameboy on his chest. He noticed she was wearing that blouse he loved. The low cut light purple one. He made it obvious he was gawking before she shifted and made that noise of irritation, making his eyes travel up. 

"Oh sorry, I didn't see you there. Well.... Not your face at least."

"I got a case for you.... Who are they?" She asked, turning her attention to the mom and child. 

"I needed a consult, he has a belly full of worms. Think earth worms are just like tape worms?" House smiled and Cuddy sighed before turning her attention to the patients. 

"Your son will be fine, I promise. Just get him some ginger ale. I'm sorry you had your time wasted." And with that, she ushered them out the door, then turned back to House. 

"Case."

"Ooo, must be important, you have your 'this is serious House' face." He remarked, picking up his game boy again. The older male glanced over his screen, giving his signal for her to continue speaking. 

"32 year old male, increased intracranial pressure, seizures every few hours," she began, and stopped once she noticed he wasn't paying attention anymore. That he was playing his game again. "You were requested to take it. So you're taking it."

"Requested? Many people request me, what's special about this guy? Some swelling in the brain? Put him on—"

"His blood is green." Cuddy cut him off, putting the case on the counter. At this point House was making faces as he fought off alien invaders attacking his avatar. "This is an important case, he's here from England. His brother is in the government. This is great publicity for the hospital—"

"Who is he?" He mused.

"What?"

"You wouldn't give it to me if some random brother to a guy in a foreign government came wanting treatment to some swelling. Don't they have MRI scans there? So he's someone important; famous even. Who is he?"

"Sherlock Holmes." 

"The detective?" He questioned, the game no longer being played. "I'm in."

"You'll take it?" Cuddy asked back just as surprised as House sounded. She didn't think it would be that easy, World's greatest detective or not. "No clinic duty hours off? No negotiating?"

"You had me at green blood." And with that, House stood up, pocketed his gameboy and grabbed the file and his cane. He wobbled his way out of the exam room, leaving Cuddy to shake her head with a fond smile tugging on her lips.


	3. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green blood, seizures, famous detectives? Oh my!

Chapter two 

SMACK. 

The sound of the cane hitting the table echoed, startling Cameron. This is then followed by the noise of the file being put down; a file in which Chase leans over to grab.

"What causes brain swelling and green blood?" House started, walking to his white board. He wrote the symptoms down, and then turned back to his team. 

Blue skin   
Green blood   
Chronic headaches   
Seizures   
Swelling in the brain 

"Green?" Foreman questioned, giving a disbelieving look.

"Holy— Is this really Sherlock Holmes?" Chase interrupted, attracting the attention of the other two. 

"Not important. Blood. Green. Why?"

"Oh uhm, methemoglobin?" Cameron suggested. "It explains the blood, headaches, and seizures, all of it really."

"Alright, Chase go get a history, I'm sure the British accent will make him feel right at home. Cameron test his blood. If it’s positive, start him on methylene blue."

"What about the swelling, Methemoglobin doesn't explain the brain swelling. And I'm from Australia." Chase retorted, now looking up at the board as it finally registered to him what was happening.

"Get an MRI scan too. Foreman can do that with Chase." With that, the team dispersed, excited to work this case.


	4. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dammit Sherlock, you CHASED doctor Chase away.

Chapter three 

Laying not so patiently in the bed after nurses all but man handled him into wires was Sherlock. Mycroft paced. John sat in a chair next to him. 

"You shouldn't be taking those like candy." Mycroft reprimanded, catching out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock pulled out that same label-less bottle. Clearly the concern and care for what he should and shouldn't do hit him hard as Sherlock opened the bottle and took one of the pills, and then put away the bottle in his bag.

He shook his head in reply, tutting softly. Before he could criticize any more, Chase and Cameron walked in. 

"Hello, I'm Doctor Chase, this is Doctor Cameron, and we’re here to get some blood for testing and a brief family history.” At this, Sherlock rubbed his temples and glanced over, that dramatic, long eyelash, unimpressed look boring into the blonde. 

"Australian." He commented, analyzing the man before him, taking note of his hair, his posture, the way he stood like he was trying to impress the girl, that screamed sexual tension and an inability to focus properly on his work, not to mention he looked like an insecure boy about his daddy issues, using someone in his life as a fake father figure. Oh don't forget the fact that's a new shirt he didn't wash yet to impress the girl, even if he's clearly uncomfortable by it and he's worried about staying fit judging by the low-fat salad he ate. There’s vinegar on his collar. Judging a messy eater, which in turn judges an out of order life that he desperately tries to have control over and thinks if he is perfect, someone will love him. Probably had siblings that outranked him on mommy and daddy's affection scale. All things Sherlock began to ramble off. As the list grew, John hung his head, Mycroft smirked, Cameron's eyes were wide in shock like a deer in headlights, and Chase's face turned bright red. 

Chase sputtered before looking around for assistance; no one had any. "He's always like that, I'm sorry." John finally spoke up, face in his hands. 

"Uhm, we need to get some blood." Cameron covered, moving over to prepare Sherlock's arm. She took the time to explain they believed it could be Methemoglobin as she ran her thumb over the blue tinged, and heated with a fever skin, searching for a vein while she stole glances at his eyes. The vial of the green blood that they needed was easily collected while Sherlock eyed her suspiciously. 

"What is Methemoglobin?" Mycroft chirped up, curiosity getting the better of him. As the brunette girl finished and patched the younger Holmes, she explained that it was a blood disorder where oxygen couldn't cling to the cells, making a green color, that's what they were testing to be sure before putting him on the medicine for it. All which Sherlock sneered at. 

"How many blood turning green illnesses are there?" He retorted as she stepped back. "Not many, but the cure for this is a little dangerous, it’s best to be sure." She went on, still giving that deer in headlights look. Finally, Sherlock couldn't take more of it, and began to criticize her. 

"You look incompetent, you speak unsure of yourself; needing someone to reassure you that you are correct. Your lipstick says 'notice me', your shoes say comfortable. Someone — I'm guessing the same man he views as a father figure, doesn't like women in uncomfortable shoes. You find me attractive; you haven't stopped staring at my eyes. Something about cynical tall men with light colored eyes gets you going. It’s why you won't notice the blonde over there. You're scared the diagnosis is wrong, it never is right the first time... is it?" He began to trail off, eyes getting a sort of hazy, glossed look to them before his mouth went slack and he fell back against his pillow. Soon another seizure overtook him, his heart monitor beeping. Cameron and Chase rushing to turn him, stuff the mouth piece in his mouth to keep him from biting his tongue. 

Nurses rushed in, rushing John and Mycroft out as the seizure was tended to, soon leaving an unconscious Sherlock. When John and Mycroft were allowed to return, Cameron left with her blood to get it tested, and Chase attempted to collect a patient history with the remaining companions.


	5. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its always drugs.

Chapter four

Storming into the conference room an hour later, Cameron had a playful smile on her face. House already lurked, fixing himself a cup of coffee as he chatted about another unrelated case with Wilson, whom shifted uncomfortably as the "kids" walked in. 

"His blood is negative for Methemoglobin." Cameron started as she took a seat and nodded to Wilson. He gave a smile then glanced at House. 

"This the British private detective guy with green blood?" He inquired, shuffling a folder in his arm. 

"He's a dick." Chase added; his face scrunched up in distaste. The reaction he had earned House's curiosity as he took a drink from his cup. 

"I figured you would be used to dicks." Foreman joked while grabbing the file from the only female in the room, glancing over it. 

"I think the swelling is affecting his personality. It's possible that—" Cameron began to explain what she thought Chase was meaning until another man, the one from the room, came in unannounced. 

"No, it's not a symptom; he's been like that since childhood." Mycroft announced, leaning on the door way. 

"Oh boy! Here I thought we were the doctors, but hey, if you have all the answers, let me just give you the marker.” House declared as he hobbled closer, picked up the black dry-erase marker and crossed out Methemoglobin as a cause. 

Mycroft only smiled, shifting his attention around the room. "Excuse me, Mycroft Holmes. I'm here figuring I need to accompany one of you back to my brother's flat. This is about the time you do that, right?" He questioned much to the shock of all in the room. Wilson of course ended up laughing quietly. 

"Oh this is perfect, House I think you finally found your true family." He declared. House didn't reply, instead gave a slightly impressed face. 

"Alright, who wants to take a little trip?" 

"I will. I have a passport already." Chase spoke up, standing up. He shot a look at the government official, sharing a short nod. 

"That settles it, when you get there, give a call." The blonde took this as the okay to hurry out, but House quickly halted him a 'hey'. "Wait until we figure out what you're looking for, speedy. Alright, what else causes green blood?"

"Sulfhemoglobinemia. He takes some fun drugs to stop the headaches, ignoring the swelling. Enough sulfonamides in migraine pills can turn the blood blackish green." Foreman suggested with a half shrug. 

"The Sulfhemoglobinemia as a symptom? That would make sense, but he would have to be taking some strong pain killers." Chase interrupted, frowning. 

"My brother is an addict, and a crafty one at that. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't taking Sumatriptan right now." Mycroft added before becoming to a realization. The label-less bottle. "The bottle, in his bag now is a bottle he's been taking for a while."

"Wow, this really is your long lost twin brother, separated at birth." Wilson snipped. 

"That explains the blood, but what it doesn't explain why he's taking pills to help the headache. Foreman, get an MRI scan, Cameron test for toxins, see what drugs are in his system. Chase; What are you still doing here? Go go go, there's a seven hour flight to and from. Drag your feet anymore and he might die." House teased, smirking when Chase gave that offended-hands-raised-in-defense face. 

None the less, quickly the team moved, Cameron to do her tests, Foreman to get the scan, Chase and Mycroft on the private jet that cut their time by a few hours, and House to finish his cup before going to see this patient, much to Wilson's amusement.


	6. Chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaaay.

Chapter five

Seeing Sherlock wired up like a machine, hearing the monitor beep, the smell of a hospital, waiting. Waiting was the worst thing. He didn't even know what they were waiting for. 

"You're nervous." Sherlock noted, eyelids discolored and sullen. He looked tired, blueish, sweaty, he looked thinner, sick. Guess that was the point. He was worse than before. The seizures more frequently. So randomly. 

John never felt more helpless before in his life. And he's been in pretty helpless situations before. 

"Stop pacing." 

"Sorry." He didn't stop. 

Sherlock grunted a little before shuffling up, gasping slightly as the IV shifted and felt shockingly different. He took a deep breath, uncomfortable by the plastic in his nose. Regardless, he reached out to grab his companion's hand. Instantly, John stopped pacing and looked down at their hands, noticing how Sherlock's hand just flopped down, too weak to move. 

"John," He murmured, "sit down. It's making me nauseous." With that, John kept their hands connected and reached out to pull a chair close, taking a seat beside him. Sherlock's lips quirked into the faintest of smiles before he leaned over just a tad, trying to tug John closer. His arm wasn't moving though. Confused, Sherlock stared at it until John moved down close, not noticing the way Sherlock couldn't move his hand. 

Just enough that their faces were only inches apart. So the blonde could see more clearly Sherlock's sweat drenched hair clinging to his forehead, the high cheekbones, the way his breathing seemed to match up with each slow blink of those pretty eyelashes. 

Their breath hit each other, the not so pleasant smell of hospital food that Sherlock only took a bit of hitting John's nostrils. He was the one that closed the distant until the door of the room pushed open, and he was leaning away just as fast as he had been close. 

"Hi." House greeted, unaware of the moment they shared, and the moment he crashed. 

"I uhm, he couldn't, I couldn't — his voice is faint!" John sputtered out, much to Sherlock's annoyance. House didn't even blink, instead he walked over to check Sherlock's vitals. 

"Are you Gregory House?" Embarrassed and desperate to cover his mistake, John tried to make conversation.


	7. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first confrontation is magical.

Chapter six

John ended up disappearing from the room with the quest to find coffee. He wasn't a stupid man, and figured he needed to stay away for a good fifteen minutes, time which he went to speak with Mycroft, whom informed him of the plans to accompany Doctor Chase back to the flat. 

While Sherlock and House were left alone in a room. Had John known more about House, he wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake. 

The older man took the chair John left, and grabbed Sherlock's bag. He began to ruffle through it, pulling out that bottle. Sherlock watched with fascination in those tired eyes of his as he went through his thought process. He took note of the way House had walked in, his shirt, the stubble on his face, the pill bottle in his own coat. 

"Do you know what happens when you take too many sulfonamides?" He started, shaking the bottle. Curiously, Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "Your blood turns a dark bluish green color. Now typically this is bad, but hey, what's a little excitement with self medicating if there wasn't any Smurf consequences?" He questioned, opening the bottle to examine the pills. Then he handed it over after recapping. 

Sherlock didn't move, the bottle fell to the floor. His hand, bandaged from the cut, completely useless. House frowned and picked the bottle up as Sherlock replied.

"Are you criticizing me for self medicating? Judging by your leg and the bottles in your pocket, the way your fingers fumble. I'd say you are about due for your next fix of pain killers." Sherlock snapped as condescendingly as House had spoke to him. Impressed, House switched out the bottles, replacing his painkillers in his pocket with the ones Sherlock took. Then he popped the bottle open, fished one out and tossed it in the air, catching it on his tongue, then finishing the performance by swallowing it dry.

"Vicodin. Bum leg. Get off on making cripples feel bad?" He mocked and put his bottle away. "So I shared what I'm on, what about you?" 

Sherlock chuckled. "If this was a petty attempt to figure out what drugs I'm on, asking would be much easier but of course, you're smart, you think I'll lie. Why wouldn't I? The label is ripped off. You have urine samples, I assume the pretty girl with a crush on you is running toxin screens, why do you need to ask me?"

"I already know. Wanted to see if you would tell me." House replied, narrowing his eyes slightly as he watched Sherlock's face closely, looking for signs... "Your brother told us—"

"Mycroft." Sherlock sneered. 

"— you were taking Sumatriptan." House continued. "That's a fancy drug, can't get it without a prescription. But I know you have connections. The question is, these were what caused the blood, what caused the headaches that you needed them?" House murmured, trying to think. 

His eyes locked with the tray of food that had a few bites taken from it, then back to the patient. "Not hungry?" 

"I don't care for pork much anymore." Sherlock explained, slipping his eyes closed. "It's never tastes right." At this, House's face became animated. Before Sherlock could say anything, he was walking out the door.

"With a couple blood transfusions, the color will be back to normal." He said before rushing back to his office.


	8. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, you're kinda right.

Chapter seven

"Wilson!" House shouted as he passed the main entrance, only for him to be blocked by the one and only Cuddy. 

"House." She greeted, pursing her lips. Maybe her face was always like that, he was starting to wonder. "Need you on clinic duty—"

"Can't, my patient is feeling a little blue. Have to cheer him up." He declared, shuffling aside her and making his way towards the elevators where his married friend was chatting up that pretty girl. 

"Did you figure out what's wrong with him? Media is all over us you know." Cuddy's focus completely took a U-turn. The older male stopped and looked at her carefully. 

"Sulfhemoglobinemia explains the blood. Get some transfusions, he'll be fine." Stunned by this answer, Cuddy blinked twice. Before she could ask that pesky 'how', House continued.

"Self-medicating on pain killers for the nasty headache. Gotta go now." With that, he hobbled towards his companion. 

"Hey Wilson!" The girl his friend was with moved away, knowing that if she valued her self-esteem being high, she wouldn't stay to be criticized by the man. The Oncologist sighed, muttering a 'see. You later' Before turning his full attention to his needy cat like best friend. 

"Yes?"

"Encephalitis."

"What? Wait for the detective? That's awfully rare in adults—"

"Think about it, started out with a cold, turned into something he couldn't ignore, get pills, take too many, nothing is working, seizures, fever, muscle weakness, it fits." House countered as he hit the button for the elevator with his cane. 

"Alright, so what caused the Encephalitis?" 

"Not sure." He answered. The elevator opened up and he soon disappeared inside.


	9. Chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being rude? Never. :::;)

Chapter eight 

House hid in his office, his felt ball in hand. It helped his thinking process to toss it at the wall and catch it again. After a couple hours, his pager went off, a thing he ignored. 

After an hour more, Cameron and Foreman walked in with results. 

"He's in a coma." 

"Guess he really was feeling blue. Da ba dee da ba di." House teased before reaching for the file Cameron had. 

"His blood was positive for Sulfhemoglobinemia." The ball kept being tossed.

"We have him on Steroids for the swelling; he's getting a blood transfusion now." Foreman added.

"What starts with 'E' and ends with 'cephalitis'?" House questioned, as Cameron reached out and grabbed the ball from him. 

"You think he has Encephalitis?" 

"Start him on Acetaminophen. Up it on the steroids too." 

"Where would he have gotten it?" Foreman asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"More importantly, we need to test him for it before we just treat it." Cameron added. 

"Fine, do a Lumbar puncture, he's knocked out anyway. After that, go home, it's late." House yawned and stood up. "Gonna give me my ball back?" With that, Cameron handed him his toy, and stormed off to perform the test. Foreman watched after her before turning back to his boss. 

"Careful leaving, the media is swarming out there now. Don't say anything rude." 

"Me? Rude? Never!" House mock gasped.


	10. Chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which being Jewish, really isn't that bad of an idea when you think about it.

Chapter nine

The next morning House walked in the hospital, promptly avoiding Cuddy and clinic duty. That is, until a woman came scurrying up to him, a little kid in tow. At first House couldn't remember who they were, instantly figuring he offended her and was in for an ear full. 

A sigh made its way passed his lips as he kept walking, ignoring her cries until she abandoned her kid momentarily to corner him. 

"My son says his stomach feels like the worms are moving. The ginger-ale didn't work." She wailed, and that's when House remembered her. It was the idiot from yesterday complaining about her dumb kid eating earth worms.

"Look, the body digests things naturally. Your kid is fine. Now excuse me I have to do something that involves me not being here." He blew past her, heading towards his conference room. 

In the room, not having Chase was refreshing. Still he could hear his voice. Cameron had a phone call set up. 

"I see no Chase, yet I hear him. Anyone else see the problem with that?" House chastised as Foreman snickered under his breath.

"Har har. Anyway, it's late here. I'm at his apartment with his brother." In the distance you could hear Mycroft correcting him about it being a 'flat'. Soon he started rummaging around, reading out the horrifying contents of the fridge. He was complaining that there is a lot here that could kill a man. Foreman made the offhanded joke that it's probably the least likely, with which Chase commented that that wasn't helpful. 

Meanwhile House paused, deep in thought before an idea hit him.

"Check the fridge." 

"What?"

"You heard me, check it."

"Oh god— there's a jar of EYES in here." He cried out, much to his guide's amusement. 

"Pork. Is there pork in there?" House snapped, confusing everyone involved. 

More shuffling until Chase let out a small noise. "Yes, actually— oh, disgusting." He yelped out from over the phone. 

"What is it?" House insisted.

"The pork is bad." He complained, and with that, House snatched Cameron's phone and hung up. 

"Put him on praziquantel." The cripple ordered, earning even more bewildered looks.

"Pork's bad, tapeworm fits, travels wrong to the brain, get sick, when mixed with self-medicating for that nasty headache." He explained before the two hurried out to run his theory.


	11. Chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective House.

Chapter ten

Wilson leaned against the wall, glancing at House with an arched eyebrow. A few hours after Sherlock was being treated and he even woke up from the coma. He was in full recovery, soon ready to leave in a couple of days. 

"How did you know it was a tapeworm?" He questioned and his best friend only smirked. 

"I'm just that good of a detective." House replied as he hobbled his way to Sherlock's room.


	12. Chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John leave, big boys are talking.

Chapter eleven

"What idiot doesn't fully cook their pork?" House criticized as he walked into the room, once again interrupting an almost kiss between the patient and his friend. 

Sherlock's skin was clearly, much more flesh colored than Smurf, his eyes weren't so tired, he wasn't as sweaty and the seizures came to a stop. 

"What idiot takes so long to figure out it was as simple as a worm?" He shot back. 

"Touché." House remarked, making an 'eh' face. 

"John, will you leave for a moment?" Sherlock addressed his friend, whom took a minute before nodding. He touched his hand, and then walked out. Once he was gone, Sherlock turned his attention back to his doctor counterpart. 

"How did you figure it out anyway?" He questioned, genuinely curious as to how he figured out the puzzle. Sherlock himself didn't, but the worm explained everything. 

"You said pork never tasted right, had a hunch. Your brother and one of mine went to your home. Found bad pork." House answered, once again taking John's seat. 

Sherlock pursed his lips, scanning his eyes over House carefully, gauging his appearance and reactions. 

"That's a half truth. There's something else." 

"Kid ate a couple earth worms, needy mom came back." He fessed up. 

"So... A coincidence saved my life?" Sherlock laughed, slipping his eyes shut. 

"Tends to happen a lot really." 

"Here I thought you were a renowned doctor, best of the best, really you're just a miserable, crippled man, addicted, hides behind his own intelligence and fools others into having them think he is a god when he is truly alon—"

"Don't forget I'm banging the really hot administrator of the hospital." There was no reason not to own up to his faults, and this self-acceptance had the detective deducing that House is truly something else. An intellectual that rivals himself. 

"No other doctor would have guessed a worm." 

"You were having seizures and green blood. Not typically common with worms." And with that, House dug in his coat pocket and handed back that bottle. Sherlock grabbed it, turning it around in his hand. 

"The bottle was fuller than this." He noticed, glancing back to House. 

"Whoops." 

They both smirked.


	13. Chapter twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're gonna email each other.

Chapter twelve 

The next day Chase and Mycroft returned. The foreigners stayed for a few minutes, and then checked out promptly after, Sherlock stumbling about and John holding on to him. 

When they walked out, House just so happened to be there with Wilson by his side. 

Sherlock and House's eyes locked briefly, and then he turned back to John, sharing a joke with the short man. 

Wilson snorted and ruffled through files at the desk. "He's your alter-ego." 

"Something like that."

"Going to stay in touch?" House watched as they made their way into a black car, ignoring media that hung around outside and was blocked from entering the hospital. 

"Nope." 

"You know he could be a good friend." Wilson argued, pressing for the idea of House having other friends. It didn't matter, House had Wilson and that was enough for him. After all, every introvert detective needed their shorter, people friendly companion. 

-End-


End file.
